Becoming Pirate
by s.j. snodgrass
Summary: Jack Sparrow was not always the pirate of today we know and love. This is a version of Jack's days working for the East India trading Company, and his becoming a pirate.
1. Chapter 1

This is my take on Jack Sparrow's life. How he became a pirate, etc. I will say that I'm not wandering about aimlessly. I have some information about Jack's years working for the East India trading Company while serving under Becket. In other words, I'm trying to make this as accurate as possible. Enjoy.

Pirates of the Caribbean is not mine, btw.

It was night in the Caribbean. Darkness covered the tumbling waters like a thick blanket, filling in all corners and nooks.

A thin layer of fog rose steadily over the waves, licking at the water, teasing it.

Slowly making its way through the darkness was a ship. Its movements were sluggish, as the wind was but a faint breeze. The crew, obviously, was not in much of a hurry, as they had not attempted running out the sweeps to hasten themselves.

The sails hung limp, awaiting a breeze that wouldn't come again for hours. A few members of the crew still lingered on deck, tending to the last of the ship's needs for the night.

The lamps were slowly being extinguished as the crew prepared to retire for the night. In a matter of moments, the only lamp left lit was that of the captain's quarters.

The captain indeed was the only man left awake on board. He sat hunched lazily over his desk, tapping at his brass compass and taking down notes in his log.

He was relaxed, his coat hung over his chair, and his dark shoulder-length hair loosened from it's customary tie.

Jack Smith, captain of the Wicked Wench, currently employed by the East India Trading Company.

He sat back and stroked his chin. He could feel the stubble returning. He noted that it would be wise to shave again once he reached Port Royal, as not to upset his higher-ups.

Higher-ups. More like higher-up. Singular term. After all, he was not of the military, he was not a merchant. He simply did odd-jobs for one Cutler Beckett.

Not what anyone would call an honorable one, but did he ask for one? All he wanted was to remain on the sea, his first and currently only love. He refused to become a pirate, though. In his younger days, when he was but a boy of seventeen who introduced himself as 'Jack Sparrow', the notion might have crossed his mind. Now, though, he was perfectly content running around for Beckett.

He was quite wild back then. He remembered his motley crew, chasing fantastical items and outwitting fearsome pirates. While some of the more noble, and high-class commissioners he'd known recently might say he'd calmed down, his crew knew him to still be rather carefree, wild, and having a bit too much of a love for his rum.

He chuckled softly as he thought of the different Jacks known by different sets of people. It had become obscured to him even who he was at times. But, as the saying goes, 'you are truly yourself when no one is around.'

He yawned and stretched. It was about time to be getting to bed, he decided, closing his log and extinguishing his lantern. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, as Beckett awaited them at port to give him his newest assignment.

That would be chapter one. Just an introduction. Jack's life seems to be going pretty well, huh? Well not for long! Tune in next time, and review if you want to see more.


	2. Beckett

Port Royal was busy as normal as _The Wicked Wench _docked. Merchants and sailors alike bustled about, carrying cargo to and from the dock. Overseers watched the process, and English soldiers lingered nearby, in case any sort of 'disagreements' arose between men.

Jack sneered at the thought that Pirates still lurked in this port, and was always less than willing to leave anything belonging to him of much value on the ship. The cargo he could care less about, though, seeing as once it changed hands with the officials it was no longer his responsibility.

He left his ship to help his men unload. Not a usual action of his, but he was feeling particularly helpful today. The cargo he had been carrying were boxes of spices from India, his place of birth.

"That'd be all of 'em, Cap'n." One of his best men, Constantine, reported. Jack looked around, checking for any signs of slacking.

"Alright then. You boys watch the ship. I'm off to see me ol' friend Beckett. Savvy?" He leaned closer to the man and looked him in the eyes.

Many others might have found such close contact to be rather disturbing. Constantine, however, was quite used to his captain's sometime eccentric behavior.

The large man simply nodded, uttered a "Yes, Cap'n," and carried on.

Jack watched him go, his head tilted back, before proceeding.

He walked off of the dock. His steps were slightly different from the residents of Port Royal. He had a distinct swagger, matching the rocking of a boat most perfectly. Most people, though, would not have thought of a boat. They thought he'd had a bit too much to drink. Though, admittedly, that was often the case.

He made his way through the cramped dirty streets, ignoring the stench of various places as best he could. One thing jack couldn't was being on land for too long. Especially land as cramped and filthy as Port Royal's streets.

Colonel Cutler Beckett inhabited quite a large house while he stayed in Port Royal. Although his actual home was in England, he often found it necessary to reside here, since it was a prime location for most of his business dealings.

Jack could never say he liked Beckett. He worked under him, sure enough. But Beckett was the kind of man you would trust a pirate more than. He would most likely sell out his own mother if she ever gained a price on her head. In short, he was all about money. How he made his money didn't always matter. Just that he had it was enough for him.

Jack approached Beckett's house with some caution. It was like walking to the gallows. The whole estate just gave you that sense that you would never see daylight again.

No sooner had Jack rapped on the door was he greeted by a pompous servant in a light blue frock coat.

"Colonel Beckett is expecting you, Mr. Smith." He said. His nose was turned up at Jack, as though he was offended by his odor. When the servant turned to lead Jack down a hall, Jack sniffed himself curiously.

The servant paused at a door. "He is awaiting you inside, sir." He stood beside the door, waiting. "Thanks very much." Jack smiled, inclined his head, and entered.

The shutting of that door behind him felt like the closing of a coffin lid. He couldn't help but shiver as he laid eyes on the man sitting at the mahogany desk by the window.

Beckett looked up from his papers as Jack entered. "Ah, Jack." He gave Jack a smile. A smile that resembled what a snake would look like at the sight of its prey willingly stepping into its trap.

"Nice to see you." Jack smiled nervously, gesturing toward him in greeting.

"No need to be so formal, Jack." Beckett stood up and waltzed over to Jack. "After all, we're friends, right? Business partners?"

"I would prefer the latter, actually." Jack confessed. "I'll bet you would. Now Jack, I have a new job for you." Beckett returned to his desk and picked up a pile of parchment.

Jack shifted nervously and craned his neck in an attempt to see what Beckett was holding. When Beckett turned back around, Jack returned to his casual position, but still tried to inspect the papers. Only with a bit more subtlety.

"Jack, I have something I want you to transport." Beckett announced. Jack raised an eyebrow, "What might that be, may I ask? Silk, spices, supplies?" Jack ventured, shifting from foot to foot.

Beckett chuckled softly at his question. "No, Mr. Smith. I'm afraid my buyers have no interest in such things."

"Then what is it?" Jack pressed. "Jack, you need to learn that objects such as silk and supplies are not worth nearly as much as they used to be."

"Oh?" Jack feigned an interest as he tried to quell the nagging feeling in his gut.

"A new way to make money has arisen. Something that can make more money much faster. Although the cargo has changed very much." Beckett began.

"And what, Colonel, might this new cargo be?" The twisting in his gut was getting harder to bear.

"I'm talking about slaves, Jack." Beckett finished with a rather dramatic role of his eyes

Jack felt his stomach drop. "You mean slaves, like…people? You want me

to transport…people?" His tongue was tied. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Living people?"

"Is that too much for you, Jack?" Beckett asked, his eyes flashing.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but…I think I'll have to decline, if that's all the same." Jack flinched as the words escaped his lips.

"Did I mention you will get a generous sum?" Beckett asked, surveying Jack with calculating eyes.

"I won't do it." Jack replied firmly, surprising himself at how brave he sounded.

Beckett smiled again and stood beside Jack, staring him down. "Oh, I think you will. You see, Jack, if you refuse, that will be treason against the East India Trading Company. You engage in treason, I will personally brand you a pirate. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Smith?" Beckett leaned in closer to him, pressing him for an answer.

"Very clear, Sir." Jack swallowed, taking a step back.

Beckett smiled and clapped Jack on the back as he led him to the door. "You made the right decision, I assure you." With that, he shut Jack out of his office.


	3. Destruction

"Men! Up! Everybody up! I want this ship out of the dock now!" Jack was shouting like a madman as he ran down the dock to his ship.

His men looked around, startled. They hadn't been expecting to move so quickly. A fair share of them were involved in a card game, while some weren't even on the boat.

"Captain, what's in your head? Why the rush?" One of his men hollered from the deck. "No questions! Captain's orders!" Jack shouted back, running up the gang plank.

The men started to run around the ship, lowering the sails and preparing for their leave.

Jack rushed to his captain's wheel, jerking it to the side to catch the wind as _The Wicked Wench _sailed out of the dock.

"I don't want any slacking until we get out of the bay!" He barked, though he knew his men didn't need to be told that. His hands trembled as he clutched the wheel, his eyes fixed on the bow.

"Captain?" Jack jumped when his first mate, Johns, approached him from behind. "What is it?" Jack cried, looking Johns over. "Steady, Captain. I was just curious as to why we left port so quickly." Johns eyed Jack when he didn't reply.

"This isn't right, is it?" Johns tried again to get a response from his Captain. Jack opened his mouth as if to speak then he shut it a gain, pondering his reply. Johns waited patiently until Jack turned to face him. "No….I…I ran away from Beckett. Not without cause, mind you."

"Oh Lord." Johns stroked his graying beard and looked out over the deck. "He'll come after us, won't 'e? That's why you were in such a rush." Johns sighed.

"You don't look very worried, seeing as the devil's at our heels." Jack commented. Before John's could reply, a shout came from one of the men. "Sail ho!"

Jack flinched and fumbled as he attempted to grab his spyglass. John's handed it to him, and Jack looked through, knowing what he would see.

Coming on fast was a ship of the navy. Jack lowered his spyglass and started barking orders again.

"We can still outrun them, Captain. Our ship is the fastest." Johns cried. Jack's upper lip twitched. "Beckett gave me this ship, Johns. I doubt that we can outrun his naval ship."

"D'you think he selected this one just for us?" Johns' eyes widened, as though he already knew the answer. "If I had any doubt, mate, I'd attempt to get away from them." Jack replied, a hint of sadness in his voice. "What do you suggest we do?" Johns asked. Jack gauged the distance between them and the naval ship, which was closing in fast. "We fight." He replied.

He turned and shouted to his men. "Come about! Roll out the guns and get that ship in range, you swabs!" His men immediately ran to obey his commands.

"Captain, you think we have a chance against that vessel?" Johns asked. Jack looked at him sadly. "We have to try, mate." With that, Jack left the wheel to Johns and went below deck, emerging with a few muskets.

"Captain! We have them in range!" A man shouted. "Hold Fire! Wait until they come to the side, and aim for the mizzenmast and the hull!" Jack commanded, handing a few men muskets. He kept his own, and began to stuff it with powder as quickly as possible.

The naval vessel came closer, and had its side to them. Jack realized with sick horror that no matter how heavily armed he had made _The Wicked Wench, _the naval ship was still superior. "Fire!" Jack shouted. All across the ship the large explosions of cannons rang out, piercing and splintering their opponent.

However, their cannons were soon shot, and it was the moment Jack feared: The naval ship's turn. Their cannons crashed into _The Wicked Wench_, and Jack winced at his own men's death cries.

The naval officers aboard their ship began firing on Jack's men with their muskets in between cannon fire. Gun smoke covered the decks of both ships, yet none of the sailors were in much a mood to enjoy the smell.

Jack's eyes were burning from the smoke, but he still fired on the enemy ship and shouted orders to his men. They had hit the naval ship's hull, but not in the right place, the shot had not been lethal enough to sink it. It seemed, though, that the naval ship had the same idea. With one well placed shot from the enemy's cannon, the hull of _The Wicked Wench _was splintered.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what that shot had done. He knew that was a lethal shot for any ship.

What the enemy ship did then no one was expecting. They launched barrels of gunpowder over to Jack's ship, which exploded on contact. Flames broke out around the deck, igniting the sales and even a few of the men. Jack was in shock at the carnage so quickly inflicted upon his beloved ship.

"Johns!" He looked about for his first mate, but when he found him he wished he hadn't. Johns' crumpled body was a few feet away from him, a cannon ball in his gut. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and his mouth was slack.

Jack shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he turned to his remaining men. "Abandon ship, men! She's going down!"

"But Cap'n, the boats are gone! They've either been destroyed or burned!" One of his men announced Jack's greatest fear. Jack opened his mouth to suggest an alternative, but he was knocked into the water when a cannon ball shattered the deck where he was standing.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is chapter three. I hope it is going as well as I intended it to. As some of you may have noticed, my knowledge of a ship is pretty limited, as is my sailor dialogue. I apologize to any ship experts that may have been distracted by my inaccuracies. If I did make a big error, please tell me so I can fix it in the future. Thanx.**


	4. Punishment

A/N: FINALLY! A second chapter. My god I've been busy and lazy. Well, enjoy.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

All he could feel was pain. It ripped through him. It tore across his body and racked his mind. His head felt like it was on fire. And the cold. The horrible cold. It engulfed him and swept through the little clothing he was wearing.

Wearily, he opened an eye. The motion hurt so much he felt his head was splitting in half. He promptly closed it again. After a few moments of preparing himself for the pain, he opened both eyes. Images swam in front of his eyes. He couldn't make the fuzzy pictures he was seeing. It was dark, and something like bars floated in and out of his vision.

The swirling images made him dizzy and nauseous. He found himself rolling over and vomiting on the cold stone floor. His mouth tasted of salt water and gunpowder. He coughed and sputtered, attempting to get the taste out of his mouth. Doing so made him sick again, and he vomited a second time.

He rolled onto his back and stared groggily at the ceiling. He felt dead. He could hear the ocean rolling in his head, as though he were right next to it. He groaned and attempted to silence the sound, to no avail.

He stopped suddenly as he heard voices. He listened closely, hanging on their words, trying to find out just what had happened in the last few hours.

"-Colonel Beckett warned 'im, din' he? I say it's the dog's own fault. He'll just have to deal with the punishment expected." The first man's voice was hard and cold. The second laughed.

"Would you look at that, Dav? 'Es awake. How're we feelin', Jack?"

Jack heard a key grind in a lock and a large metal door opening. He listened as footsteps crossed over to him. He opened his mouth to say something to them, but was silenced with a sudden sharp kick to the ribs.

This sent him into a coughing fit, causing him to vomit a third time.

Rough hands grabbed him by his arms and yanked him to his feet. "Get up, you. You've slept long enough. There's someone here to see you." One of the men said. They forced his head up. Slowly, blinking away the lights of pain, Jack set his eyes on the new man.

Cutler Beckett

""You…" Jack rasped before coughing uncontrollably.

"Yes me." Beckett smiled smugly and paced in front of Jack. "You tried to escape me, Jack. Luckily my men were already preparing to sail, so I told them to take a little detour. They thought you were dead when they found you lying face down in the ocean. But obviously you weren't."

Beckett strolled over to one of the stone walls and pulled something from it.

"My ship…Where is it? Where am I?" Jack asked.

"Your ship is currently lying on the ocean's floor." Beckett smirked. "And you are currently in a dungeon in Port Royal."

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow make everything better.

"I believe I told you what would happen if you chose to disobey me. And I intend to make good on my word." Beckett began unrolling something in his hands, and Jack was turned around.

The men holding him slammed his face into the bars of another cell and tore the remains of his shirt from him, revealing a sinewy and tan back, weather-beaten from time on the open ocean.

The cold stung him as it whipped across his bare torso. But the wind was nothing in comparison to what he was about to feel.

He growled in pain at the sudden and unexpected strike of a whip across his bare back. The pain came again and again, each time biting into his flesh and causing insurmountable pain.

2,3,4…

He gritted his teeth as Beckett struck him harder each time. He didn't stop until Jack was writhing with pain. The two guards released him and Jack collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Above him Beckett handed the whip off to another guard and turned his attention on a fireplace a few paces away.

"That was a pirate's punishment, Jack." Beckett murmured while staring into the blazing coals. "And to earn such punishment, you need to be a pirate." He reached into the fire and withdrew a long branding iron. He held it up to Jack's face so that Jack could see clearly what it was.

At the end of the branding iron was a large, blazing red "P". Jack began scrambling to his feet in horror but was pulled back down by a guard.

"It's time to take responsibility for your actions, Jack." Beckett reached out and grabbed Jack's wrist. Jack attempted to pull it back, but was unable with the guards around him. In a quick motion, granted by years of practice, Beckett flipped the iron and pressed it down on Jack's wrist.

Jack howled in pain and wriggled out of Beckett's grasp. Suddenly adrenaline filled, Jack yanked the iron from Beckett's hand and buried it in his groin. Beckett doubled over in pain and guards ran to attack Jack. Jack ran to the fireplace and scooped up some of the hot coals with a shovel nearby. He flung the coals at the guards and dashed out the nearest door.


End file.
